


Drinking the Ink from My Pen

by jurassiclouis



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Artist Louis, Bottom Louis, Insecure Louis, M/M, Protective Liam, comic book au, director harry, lots of thai food, superhero au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-04-13
Packaged: 2018-03-21 06:39:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3681822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jurassiclouis/pseuds/jurassiclouis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis is a famous comic book writer, known best for his character Ricochet. He’s most comfortable in his own home, with the comfort of schedules, his manager, Liam, and his fabricated world. A new worker at the Thai take-out restaurant Louis frequently calls kind of screws everything up.</p><p>Or the one where Louis has severe anxiety and Harry is precious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a short little prologue to introduce Louis and Teddy/Ricochet, the fictional character Louis writes about. So comments are nice because this story plus Ricochet are things that I made and I'm really proud of this character, even if he's a teeny tiny part of this story.

_Teddy Diright startled out of bed, reaching desperately towards his bedside table before he found his glasses. His breathing was harsh and glancing at the clock, he knew why._

_He must've over slept, it was nearly seven in the evening, the sun already set and if the noise outside was anything to go by, London’s evening hours were in full swing._

_He pushed himself out of bed and felt his own forehead to make sure he wasn't sick._

_Teddy Diright didn't oversleep._

_He shrugged it off, blaming it on a rough night last night, which wasn't untrue. The fading bruises on his body were a dead giveaway, but his sped up healing process helped a lot._

_He quickly brushed his teeth in the bathroom and splashed water on his face. He needed to get going or he'd be in trouble again by his boss and when superpowers are involved, it's best not to anger anybody unless necessary. He put in his contact lenses in and looked at himself in the mirror one last time, staring at his own green eyes and deciding it was time to get to work._

_Walking into his bedroom again, he grabbed the suit he needed. He was almost comforted by the familiar black and blue outfit; he liked being this guy more than just Teddy, the guy on the top floor who didn't talk much._

_He pulled the mask over his head before he stepped out of his flat, walking into the stairwell no one used. He went from floor eight to six before he opened the broken window and jumped out gracefully, creating a small field below him to catch his fall. The alley was the same as it was every night and he put two pounds in the woman's cup who was sleeping in a small box._

_He snuck around the alleyways up until about seven thirty when he was leading a drunk man to a taxi he had waved. The Superhero Act that Parliament had passed was the best thing to have happened to him._

_After he had safely gotten into the cab, Teddy rolled his eyes and started to walk back into the alleyway, but he was stopped when he saw a familiar figure lurking in the corner._

_And then the man, with his raspy voice and glowing red eyes spoke._

_"Ricochet."_  

-

Louis stared at the ceiling in a desperate attempt to shut his eyes. It was almost five in the morning and he had already been wasting too much time writing comic #36 two weeks in advance. He needed sleep now.

He had worked almost the full twenty four hours before and had only gotten three hours of sleep the previous night. The lack of sleep was making his work sloppy.

Louis Tomlinson didn't do sloppy.

He got out of bed slowly, sighing and shuddering at the cool tile beneath his feet. He walked to the bathroom, opening the door and switching the lights on. He had tried to avoid the sleeping pills - they knocked him out for hours on hours because they mixed with his other medication - but tomorrow he had absolutely nothing planned, a common occurrence, and figured he could pass.

He quickly swallowed the pills and used the tap water from the sink to wash them down before turning the lights off again and walking back to his bed.

He got into the much too large bed and pulled the pressed covers over himself neatly. He could feel the fast-acting pills already and was thankful when he felt his eyes shutting on their own accord. Something he didn't have to think about.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiii, so I decided once a week updates is a good goal, so here it is :)
> 
> My tumblr is jurassiclouis.tumblr.com (I can't link on my phone) if you want to come talk to me :)))

Louis woke up far too late for his comfort. It was nearly eleven o'clock when he finally opened his eyes which were still thick with sleep. His body ached and felt as if the actual rest he had gotten had done no good, so he blames the late hour he finally closed his eyes.

He sat up and stretched his arms above his head, letting out a sigh as he heard the satisfying _cracks_ his body made. He got up out of his bed and immediately set to remaking it, smoothing out every crease in the starch-white duvet. Making sure everything was perfect, even his pillows centered in the middle, he then set about walking into the bathroom, careful to avoid the mess of drawings on his floor. They were thrown onto the ground in shame, of imperfection, and were the one thing Louis could not bring himself to clean. Instead, they lay where they are thrown in haste away from his desk, some making it across the room in his frustration.

It was all routine and nothing ever changed and Louis _thrived_ because nothing ever changed. The only changes were ones that he implemented himself. All except for his sleeping pattern, he couldn't ever get control over that. It always seemed to have tricks rolled up it’s sleeves to keep Louis on his dragging toes, exhaustion etched below his eyes in deep purple. But he could always control his comics, what happened next and who won and every little detail of his imaginary world.

It was hard for him sometimes to differentiate. He didn’t like to remember that there was an actual world outside of _Ricochet: Hero for the Runaways_. And the only person who could get through to him when he got so far gone into his comics that the lead from his pencil left permanent marks on his hands was Liam.

Liam was his manager and self-proclaimed best friend (though Louis thought the second title fit him nicely). Louis also thought he should add ‘mother’ to the list of jobs Liam holds when it comes to Louis because he checks up everyday to see if Louis’ eaten, if he’s slept, and even if he's brushed his teeth and showered.

A good majority of the time Louis lies, but he supposes 'detective' would go well into Liam’s line of work too because he can always tell.

So Louis goes through his routine, making himself the only thing he manages to without burning anything. Breakfast is the only proper meal he ever has, and it’s always just eggs and toast, the rest of his meals are always depending on if he has any leftovers or if he needs another box of takeout. He gets reprimanded everytime Liam catches him with another box of takeout, but Liam never actually goes into great lengths to stop it because he knows that if he cut Louis off, even from something as meaningless as food, his entire life would tip out of balance and Liam barely got through the last time that happened when they were fifteen years old, he didn’t need it again.

Louis sits alone at the table and takes a drink from the same cup he always drinks his orange juice out of. The only noise in the large flat is the heater in the background, not quite warming Louis’ ice cold bones.

The comics had left Louis well off, another thing he didn't know how to handle. The only four rooms he truly uses are his own bedroom which doubles as his office, the bathroom, an office where he reads, and the kitchen which holds a small breakfast table that he eats at. This left two extra rooms plus the large living space and the lavish dining room as the flat took up the entire floor on the building. He only ever used the living room once a week when he placed the final copy of that week's edition on the coffee table for Liam to pick up, but besides that there was always just silence.

Louis liked it that way.

 

 

He spent a good portion of the rest of the day locked up in his room, sorting through page after page of the papers scattered around for Liam. He had requested that Louis add in a couple rough drafts to this week's edition as a special piece because it made him look like a real person to the fans.

Louis understood, of course he did, because he was known as a recluse and was known to never do any sort of interview. In fact, in the two years that his comics have been published in, he's only ever done one over the radio.

Of course he had the final copy downstairs on his coffee table like always, meticulously straight and next to the scented candle his mum gave him, but how on earth was Louis supposed to pick one of these _messybadugly_ drawings and allow people to actually see them? He spent hours over hours perfecting the final copy and now he was expected to pick a good rough draft? There was no such thing.

He ran a hand through his already tousled hair and a groan of pure frustration ran out of his cracked and bitten lips.

“Tough time?” a soft voice asked from his doorway.

Louis looked up and felt his eyes start to sting. Liam was here and he wasn’t prepared at all. Now he was going to be disappointed and hate him and go get another client who wasn’t so useless and would leave him just li-

"Hey, Louis, calm down,” Liam said, rushing forward and putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay,” he promised, his big, brown eyes familiar and comforting.

“But I didn’t even get what you asked done, Liam!” he insisted, ready to burst with the disappointment that was buzzing in the pit of his stomach, angry and craving attention.

Liam looked sad and that made Louis feel even worse because Liam was the type of person who never deserved to be sad, he was so good and kind and everything Louis wanted to be.

“Lou, I knew this wasn’t going to be easy for you, so I came over to help you.”

“I don’t know how to do this, Li,” Louis admitted, looking around at the piles of discarded drawings. They were on the floor for a reason, they weren’t good enough for anybody else to see. It took Liam three years of reluctant friendship and one year of dependent managing to get Louis to even allow him into his room.

Liam bit his lip, thinking over a way to get Louis to agree with this idea. Bonus pages were really popular in the industry right now and it would allow the fans a more personal connection with Louis since he was known for flawless art with little to no actual author involvement. Liam was getting call after call from the publishing company lately about interviews to keep Louis relevant, but he figured this was the best he could do for now.

“That’s alright, Louis, we can try again some other time,” he reassured. “Now let’s go downstairs and I’ll call the Thai place - what’s their name? - before I leave to drop off your final copy.”

Louis nodded, not quite feeling okay with Liam abandoning his idea. He seemed really keen with it earlier over the phone and he was sure that Liam was just doing this for Louis’ mental state, not the good of the company, which made his guilt twist over again. But he still got up, rubbing his eyes with gentle fists like a child, and walked out of the room towards the downstairs living area, his stomach growling from hours of work with just his breakfast to go by.

Liam grabbed a couple pages off the ground, sure Louis wouldn’t miss them if they were gone, and shoved them into his back pocket, not saying another word.

 

 

Liam had left nearly an hour ago and Louis was sure that his food would be at his house at any second. He had his money out and ready - fifteen pounds paid for the meal and a tip every time - and he was flipping through an old book he had already read in the office (which was really just a room with a big, comfy chair that he liked to read in sometimes because he could never pick up a pen outside of the comfort of his room).

The doorbell rang right when Louis reached a new chapter and he let out a low cheer at the perfect timing. Now, he just had to hand Niall the money and his night would be perfect.

Liam had calmed him down earlier, convincing him that it really wasn’t a big deal and then getting him to talk a little bit about the next issue of Ricochet, which always seemed to cheer him up anyway.

But when he opened the door, he was shocked and rooted to his spot on the ground. Because he was expecting the small, blonde boy who was so, so kind to Louis. But instead of the gleaming blue eyes, Louis was met with a pair of dangerous looking brown eyes and a sharp, rigid bone structure. Louis was sure he would be beautiful if he wasn’t so scary.

"Hey, mate, it’s twelve pounds even,” he said skeptically, unnerved by Louis’ stare.

Louis bit down sharply on his lip, because no, no, no this is all wrong. Niall delivers the food on nights, except for on Sundays and Thursdays (which is when incidentally Louis doesn’t oder in), not this boy.

But he didn’t want to embarrass himself even further, his cheeks already on fire, burning him on the inside and out, so he handed the boy the fifteen pounds and grabbed the food with his shaking hands.

“You alright?” _Not Niall_ asked curiously, holding the warm bills in his hand and debating whether or not he should help the obviously upset boy.

“Fine, have a good night,” Louis squeaked, the pitch coming out high and not at all convincing. But he closed the door behind him and felt his heart racing. He couldn’t even convince himself to ask the boy where Niall was.

He went into the kitchen and placed the bag on the counter, his hands still shaking. He was relieved when he felt the bag, heavy and strange despite being the same thing he always ordered, out of his hands. He needed to get the abnormality away from him.

He walked slowly away from the kitchen, as if something was going to pop out at him, before he bolted up the steps and slammed the bathroom door behind him. He almost immediately started stripping off his clothes before turning on the shower as hot as it could go. He needed to feel the familiarity of the burn, making its way inside of his skin and helping him feel clean again.

-

_“Randy, how nice to see you again,” Ricochet quipped, positioning his body in a stance that was ready to protect himself. He made a small, translucent force field around himself because Randy liked to strike fast and unexpectedly._

_“Actually, I’ve been thinking about changing my name again. Randy was genius of course, so simple and unthreatening, but I like the ring of ‘Genius’, just the one word,” he joked, sneer poking out from his green mask that covered half of his face and just barely the top of his mouth. He had already changed the ‘R’ on his costume to a ‘G’ having made up his mind on yet another new name._

_“What do you want?” Ricochet asked, ignoring the usual antics of his enemy. He spent a lot of time talking, trying to distract Ricochet until he could attack._

_“What I always want, dear boy,” he said condescendingly, like he was so much older and wiser than him. “You, just out of the way.”_

_With those words, he disappeared and reappeared right behind Ricochet, making him turn his head right before he was knocked down._

_He shook his head, to try to pull himself together. Randy - Genius - whatever his name was for the week, was fast, so he just had to be faster._


End file.
